Of the Ether
by VulkansNodosaurus
Summary: Mephet'ran was a C'tan, a god of the Materium and one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. Except that, at this juncture, there are approximately five hundred shards believing themselves to be Mephet'ran, each of them somewhat insane - but then again, who isn't? Written February 2011.


He was thirsty.

It was rather troubling, in truth. There had been times when satiating the thirst had been simple- one simply sat in their star and collected energy. In the War in Heaven, though, everything changed. The trade-off had seemed worth it then- living beings were much tastier than stars.

They were more expensive, though.

The troubles the stock went to in order to preserve their lives was hilarious at first, but after two near-death experiences, he learned quickly. Living beings were not to be slowly and simply devoured like stars. Eating them required cunning and long-term planning.

His thirst did not help long-term planning. His thirst cried out for sacrifices, and now.

This was troubling. First of all, humans- the species that he found the most delicious- did not like it when an important figure drank another's life blood. Secondly, he was in disguise, and becoming a golden-skinned monstrosity- even aboard this ship filled with fools- would not help his standing.

Before he could remember the third reason, his head began shaking. He needed energy, and fast.

He was almost alone- still, for a quick sip even the psyker would have to do. She was known for her frequent disagreements with him, for she could see something off about him. Still, he was called the Deceiver for his ability to keep secrets, and somehow, until now, he had managed to keep his secret.

The thirst called out again, and in a quick motion he unfurled a trail of white material beneath him. The cloth suddenly appearing from her master surprised the psyker, but the god continued. The "Inquisitor"'s skin started to glow, softly at first but with an ever-rising intensity. A mask pulsed into existence on the Deceiver's head, and great ears filled it. Strange textures from before the dawn of time flashed across the Deceiver's skin, and then the being was no longer Inquisitor Herw, or any human for that matter.

The Deceiver didn't consider such trivial matters. Instead, it lunged at the psyker, piercing its frail skin. The physical world bore little that revealed the battle that was occurring in the Null, the aetheric plane. The Deceiver was stretched thin enough to pass through spaceship hulls, yet thick enough to solidify inside the mortal's body.

The psyker's soul was torn from her body in a wrenching motion. She was once named Indigo, but now she was merely a figment in that monstrous realm of nonsensical, new gods. Her body was still alive, but the Deceiver now moved inside it as well. Her energy was transferred through golden filigree to the Deceiver's center, which slowly again came into existence again. Centralizing, the C'Tan spun on its axis, but paradoxically this did not fling more of him out but rather pulled matter in. The energy from the human was thus sucked in, as Indigo's husk fell apart, scattering dust on the floor.

It wasn't the quickest way of drinking, but it was the most efficient, and without doubt the most spectacular. With this in mind, it took milliseconds for the Deceiver to hear a rhythmic clapping from the room's entrance.

The Sisters.

They were fanatical warriors, insanely devoted to their god- who happened to set a record for the least godlike deity anyone worshipped- and highly dangerous. They had wiped out many of his loyal Necron warriors (not that they could avoid being loyal, being robots) through time. He could easily devour them, of course, but that would hurt his mission plan.

"You have returned!" one said with an attempt at some respectful gesture. Of course, with the highly uncomfortable armor she was wearing, that was a highly ineffective attempt.

It took the Deceiver a few moments to realize who they were mistaking him for.

The Emperor. Their "god". The corpse on their home planet.

The Deceiver privately marveled at their sheer idiocy while he struggled to say something.

"No, this is not the Emperor, but an impostor! Look at his ears!"

The other Sororitas was apparently not planning to be as respectful.

"You are a fool, Jeiua, a compassionate fool! The Emperor protects us, and now he has come down to our humble ship in the guise of our dear lord. How may I serve you?"

The Deceiver thanked himself that the priest was there.

"Indeed," it pronounced slowly, "I am the Emperor returned- yet I am not. I am merely a part of him, seeking to collect the whole. I bring His light, which is also My light. This woman was an extremely dangerous heretic, one that had to be destroyed for the Imperium to survive as it does today."

Jeiua smirked. "Which part of the Emperor are you? Perhaps the ears, you blasphemous xenos?"

She was almost cut short by the Ecclesiarch's bolter, but the shell impacted moments after she finished speaking.

"It is you," Ecclesiarch Scefewum observed, "who we have paid homage to for thousands of years. Though you may not be whole, the very news that you have returned will sow hope across the Imperium. Your armies shall raze twice more cities; your Astartes shall destroy thrice as many planets; we will convert four times more heathens; and the Inquisition will burn five times as many heretics. The Imperium shall be purified in the flames of your noble rebirth, and the stars shall bow under our might, under humanity's might, under your might."

The Deceiver smiled, for his plans were working perfectly. Deep inside, a thirst stirred…


End file.
